Where the Mountains Meet the Sea

I was sure Wales was going to be a grey, rainy place where I felt the cold seep through to my bones.

It wasn't.


The view from Mt Snowdon

Lauchlin and I sweated our way up Mt Snowdon, the highest peak in Wales. In hazy sunshine I stared down at rolling green hills and turquoise lakes. The sea lay somewhere in the distance.



In fact, the sea was closer than I had expected - we managed to drive to the beach in 20 minutes from the base of Mt Snowdon. Apparently you can see Ireland from this beach on a clear day.



On Easter morning we woke up to find more clear blue skies. Tromping through a small forest to the top of Mynyth Mawr (pronounced Minith More), a little man with a smooth bald head overtook us. I made a cheerful comment about the weather and he called back "It's always like this in Wales," as he zoomed up the hill.


The view from Mynyth Mawr

From the top of Mynyth Mawr we could see yesterday's beach - but not Ireland.



Several kilometres later, Lauch and I ended up in a pub with a nice refreshing pint of er... warm ale. It wasn't literally heated, it just wasn't ice cold. We decided to ride the steam train back to our campsite.




Our tent was located in the campgrounds of luxury. Free hot showers! Sinks to do our washing up in. And the sound of a real waterfall to fall asleep to. Lauch and I left Wales with sore calves, surprisingly rosy cheeks and the feeling of optimism that a full weekend of sunshine inspires.